Redemption (Book 6) (30 page)

He saw something out of the corner of his eye. A reddish glow. No, not a glow. It was a pulsing aura, red like blood, but somehow giving hardly any light.

Kendril’s stomach twisted. He had seen that peculiar aura before. He snapped his head around.

A huge Jombard, dressed in the ornate jewelry and armor of a high chieftain, came walking casually across the muddy grass. An impossibly huge longsword was in his hand. His hair was braided into a topknot, and unlike most of the Jombard men, his face was clean-shaven.

But what riveted Kendril’s gaze was the throbbing Soulbinder that hung around the man’s neck.

A
Soulbinder
? How was it possible? How could—?

“Demonbane!” the Jombard cried. He raised his longsword with a wolfish grin. “I challenge you to face me. I am the Great Fang, favored of Harnathu. My sword longs for your blood. Face me!”

Kendril glanced quickly behind him.

The gate of Stockade was swinging shut again. Captain Beckett was on foot by the doors, waving frantically to Kendril.

Kendril turned his gaze back on the massive Jombard chieftain.

“Come, little man,” the Great Fang said tauntingly. “You are not afraid, are you? Prove yourself in battle.”

“Some other time,” Kendril said. He turned his mount around and galloped for the gate.

He barely made it inside the doors before they slammed shut. The dragoons manning the gate barred and locked them immediately.

From outside the walls came more howls, some of them quite human, as well as the sounds of horns blowing and drums beating.

Kendril looked around him.

About forty of his riders had made it inside the fortress alive. It was a good ratio, considering the odds that had been against them.

Captain Beckett came running up to Kendril. “Are you all right, sir?”

“Fine,” Kendril responded brusquely. He sheathed his rapier. “Take a squad and get to the armory. Get pistols and swords for the men, and anything else you can carry. Break down the door if you have to. Don’t let anyone get in your way.”

Beckett gave smart salute and an impish grin. “Aye, sir.”

Kendril tossed his bridle to Wilkes and jumped down off his horse. He went up to one of the dragoons near the gate. “Where’s Yearling?”

“Badly wounded, sir.” The dragoon nodded towards the low squat building that was Stockade’s hospital. “It doesn’t look like he’ll last the night.”

“Who’s in charge?”

The dragoon pointed towards an approaching figure. “Captain Markus, sir.”

Kendril nodded. “All right, then.” He looked back at the troopers, many of whom were already dismounted. “See to my men and their horses, will you?”

Kendril started to turn away, then looked back curiously at the dragoon. “You’re sure you’re not going to arrest me or shoot me? I think I’d rather know now.”

The dragoon gave an exhausted smile. “Lord Ravenbrook, I don’t know what all was said between you and Yearling, but I think you’ll find that those of us that are left are just happy to see any face that isn’t a blooming Jombard.”

Kendril smirked, and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Good enough.” He turned to the approaching man. “Captain Markus, I presume?” He extended a hand.

Markus, an older dragoon with a tangle of dark hair and a thick mustache, took it. “Lord Ravenbrook. I have to admit, sir, I did not expect to see you again in this lifetime.”

“I’m not staying long,” Kendril said. “How many mounts do you have for your men?”

Markus lowered his bushy eyebrows. “Enough, I suppose. At least for those still healthy enough to ride. Most of the dragoons who managed to retreat back to Stockade had their nags with them.”

“Good.” Kendril looked up as a chilling howl rose somewhere beyond the battlements. “We have to go. Everyone who can ride. We’ll take what we can, then cut our way out of here.”

“We have wounded, sir,” said Markus slowly. “Including Colonel Yearling. If we leave them behind—”

“If they can ride, then we’ll bring them.” Kendril glanced over at the eastern gate. “Otherwise we’ll have to leave them.”

Markus took a step back. “That’s a death sentence for them, sir. We can’t just abandon them to their fate.”

Kendril took a breath. “How many men do you have here, Captain?”

Markus paused for a moment. “About two hundred-fifty, give or take. Not even a quarter of the regiment.”

“Have you peeked over that wall lately, Captain?” Kendril pointed at the dark palisade structure. “Because there are
thousands
of Jombards about a hundred yards away from us.”

“With respect, sir,” said Markus as he rolled his shoulders back. “You don’t need to lecture me on—”

“Actually,” said Kendril, “I think I do. Stockade is nothing. It will fall sooner or later, and when it does, everyone inside here will be killed anyway. Meanwhile Redemption is virtually defenseless. Your two hundred-fifty dragoons could mean the difference between holding the walls there and watching every person in the town get butchered before daybreak.”

“But General,” said Markus, “we can’t just abandon Stockade. We would never—”

“You can and you will,” Kendril said abruptly. “We don’t have a choice. If we stay holed up in here then the Jombards have already won.
Think
, Captain. It doesn’t matter if we save the fort but lose the town.”

“Yearling told me that you had been replaced, sir.” Markus eyed Kendril carefully. “That the mayor of Redemption had removed you from your position.”

“The mayor is dead.” Kendril looked back at the simmering eastern sky. “And we will be too if we don’t move. Every moment we stay here gives the Jombards more time to consolidate.”

“Forty-seven men,” Markus said quietly. “That’s how many men I have in hospital right now, sir.
Forty-seven
. If we abandon this fort then they’re all dead. At least the ones not well enough to ride.”

Kendril looked at Markus for a long moment. “I know, Captain.”

Markus took off his hat and ran a gloved hand through his tousled hair. “Eru, I wish I was back on the bloody Wall.”

Kendril pulled off his lobster helm and cradled it under one arm. The steady downpour began to wash away the mud and blood off his face. “Technically I’m the ranking officer here, Markus, even though I’m militia. I could make it an order if you like.”

Markus recovered himself. He replaced his hat against the rain. “I...think I’d like that order in writing, General.”

Kendril nodded. “Understood.” He rubbed a hand across his face, smearing away some of the slime. “You have ten minutes, Captain. Gather your men. Take whatever arms and equipment you can carry. Destroy whatever you can’t.”

Captain Markus saluted. “Yes, sir.” He lowered his arm. “I hope you know what you’re bloody well doing, General.”

“So do I,” Kendril said softly.

“Tomas.” Olan turned from the dirt-stained window. “About time. Where the devil have you been?”

“Busy.” Tomas stepped into the dusty room of the abandoned tanning house. “Things are coming apart out there, you know.”

Renaald gave a snort from where he stood near the wall.

Over by a side door, Callen lounged against an empty crate. He sipped water from a canteen.

“Did you take care of Kendril?” Olan asked.

“No.” Tomas pulled down his soaked hood.

Olan straightened. “Explain yourself.”

“If you’ll hear me out, Commander,” Tomas said carefully, “I believe we have bigger problems here in Redemption than Kendril.”

Lightning flashed, lighting up the windows of the building.

Olan’s face was set into a bestial snarl. “Talk fast, Tomas.”

Thunder rolled overhead in the night sky.

Tomas stood by the door, rain dripping off his black cloak and onto the grimy floorboards of the room. “I found someone that I think you should hear from.” He turned and gestured towards the doorway.

Two figures, one cloaked and hooded in green, the other wearing a greatcoat and broad-brimmed hat, entered the room.

Renaald straightened and put a hand on his rapier.

“What is the meaning of this, Tomas?” Olan asked in a dangerously quiet voice. “Have you turned against the Order, too?”

“Hardly,” said Tomas. He looked back over at Joseph and Kara.

Joseph stepped forward, keeping his hand well away from the hilt of his rapier. “Greetings, Olan, Callen.” He looked sharply at Renaald, then over at where Yvonne stood by the window. “I don’t think I’ve had the privilege of meeting all your associates.”

Yvonne gave a slow nod. “I am Yvonne. That is Renaald. You already seem to know the rest of us.” She arched an eyebrow. “Might we have your name?”

“This is Joseph,” Tomas said hurriedly. “He helped us fight the Seteru in Vorten.”

Yvonne bowed. “Well met.”

Joseph bowed in return. “And you.”

Olan narrowed his gaze at the cloaked woman in the shadows behind Tomas. “And who is your other friend?”

Kara stepped forward before Tomas could answer. She lowered her dripping hood, revealing her beautiful face and short red hair.

The Ghostwalkers moved at once. Olan and Renaald both drew their swords. Callen jumped up and backed against the wall. Yvonne turned and took in a sharp hiss of breath.

“Well,” said Kara, her voice heavy with sarcasm, “it’s nice to see you all too.”

“Are you mad, bringing her here? How is she even still alive?” Olan stepped forward, his blade still out.

Joseph put a hand on the hilt of his rapier, ready to draw it.

Tomas stepped quickly between Olan and Kara. “Peace,” he said with both hands raised. “I brought her here for a reason.”

“You should have killed her.” Yvonne stared dispassionately at Kara. The twisting scar on the Ghostwalker’s face made her seem strangely monstrous in the half-light of the room.

“
Tomas
,” Joseph said in a hoarse whisper. He kept his hand on his rapier.

“It’s true,” Tomas said, his hands still raised. “Kara touched the Soulbinder in Vorten. She was possessed by the goddess Indigoru for a short time.”

Kara crossed her arms. “Thanks, Tomas. That’s a really convincing start there.”

“It’s too dangerous to allow her to live,” Olan said. His gaze was fixed solidly on Kara.

“And it might be just as dangerous to kill her,” Tomas said. His eyes watched Olan and Renaald closely. “Please, Commander. Allow me a moment to explain.”

“What is there to explain?” Olan looked over at Tomas for a brief moment. “If she was possessed once, she could be possessed again. If that happens—”

“Yeah, if that happens then you’re all in a heap of trouble.” Kara pushed past a startled Tomas and Joseph, and stepped right up to Olan. “But it’s not
going
to happen, and we’ve got a much bigger problem than that.”

“Kara,” Joseph whispered. He reached for her arm to pull her back.

Kara shook him off, her gaze still on Olan. “I’ve had dreams, visions. They’ve all led me to this place, tonight.” She looked over at the other Ghostwalkers. “Something terrible will happen here if we don’t intervene. Kendril will die.”

Olan gave a derisive snort. “Sounds good to me.”

Joseph glanced over at Tomas. “How in Zanthora did this guy become a commander?”

Olan’s face twisted in anger.

“I know you and Kendril have...issues,” said Kara. She lightly pushed the tip of Olan’s sword away. “But you have to believe me when I tell you that Kendril is the key to everything. If he dies, then the Seteru will win.”

“So,” said Olan with a sneer, “now you want us to believe that Kendril is some kind of ‘chosen one’? You’ll forgive me if I remain skeptical.”

“I have to admit, Kara,” said Joseph in his soft drawl, “I’m a little skeptical on that last one too.”

“The Guardian appeared to
him
first,” Kara said. “He was the one who first tracked down the Soulbinder. He was the one who shut the gate to the Void in Vorten. He was the one who banished Indigoru.
Twice
.”

“It’s funny that we should come back to Indigoru again,” Olan said ominously. “Because you still haven’t shown us that you can be trusted.”

“I won’t deny it,” Kara said fearlessly. “I had Indigoru in my head. I saw what she saw, watched what she did and couldn’t stop her.
That’s
why you can believe me. I’m the only person in this room who has had contact with the Seteru. I’m the only one who has known what they know.” She cast her gaze over the Ghostwalkers who faced her. “And I know this. The Seteru are
afraid
of Kendril.”

The room was silence except for the sluicing rain against the windows.

“You’ve heard it from her own mouth,” Renaald said. He stepped forward. “She’s had the demon in her head. She’s not—”

“Shut up, Renaald,” Olan snarled.

Surprised, Renaald faltered mid-step.

Olan glanced back at Yvonne.

The female Ghostwalker had her arms crossed. She looked at Kara intently. “Our orders on this matter are clear, Olan.”

“I know. We should kill her now.” Olan looked back at Kara. He took a step back, then slowly sheathed his sword. “The problem is, I believe her.”

Yvonne made a tight line with her mouth. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“No,” said Olan. He looked over at Renaald. “Put your sword away, Renaald. That’s an order.”

Still glaring hard at Kara, Renaald put up his rapier.

“Kendril betrayed out Order,” Olan said stiffly, looking back at Kara. “He’s gone rogue. I can’t—”

“I know what I know,” Kara interrupted. “And I don’t really care about your little Order and its rules. This bad blood between you and Kendril isn’t my problem. But if you really want him dead, then just sit by and do nothing. I’ve seen it in my visions. He dies here in Redemption if we don’t help him.”

Olan glowered at Kara, but didn’t say anything.

“It gets worse,” Kara said softly.

Yvonne kept her arms crossed. “How?”

“My dreams are hard to interpret, hard to understand,” said Kara with a frown. She bit her lip, knowing that every eye in the room was on her. “But from what I’ve seen...I think it’s clear that—” She hesitated.